Saturday, April 5, 2008

Sylvia

IThe event of a lifetime is almost underwayThe children laugh and sing, let them play.The eyes of innocence look on and make another wish:For wishes can come true when they are pure.A candle burns, wax trickles down to rest on weathered woodBetween to chairs set facing through the glow.The winter winter wind comes wandering inTo freeze the silent pose.No matter how it tries, the candle glows.No matter how it tries...

In one chair sits Sylviawith sullen eyes and a weak chin,next to Father Time with his shoulders black and grim.They've been sitting there with steady glaresunblinking and unchanged,contemplating something dark and lonely.They've been sitting there for hours,days, and, weeks, and months, and years,waiting for their moment to arriveThe anthem plays a melody that's in and out of time.

The light that flickers only has one point of viewsurrounding darkness makes itself a home.The girl was of fine color and was shaped of gold;the man was pallid white and set in stone.The rose with frozen petals never withers in the sun.The mind that never learns never forgets!The winter wind comes wondering inthe freeze the heart and skin.No matter how it tries the candle glows.

Twinkling lights and merry men are dancing in the streetas shining figures bustle to and fro.The snow is softly falling like a blanket in the cold,with fakes that warm the hearts of those who let them.There is one place along the way that's dimly lit and grey,but no one seems to notice in their joy.The wintering wind comes wandering in to hear it's own self blow.No matter how it tries, the candle glows.

In one chair sits Sylviawith sullen eyes and a weak chin,next to Father Time with his shoulders black and grim.They've been sitting there with steady glaresunblinking and unchanged,contemplating something dark and lonely.They've been sitting there for hours,days, and, weeks, and months, and years,waiting for their moment to arrive.Finally a slow grin played across her daring face,and the old bag grew a look of sudden horror.With that the old man died and smashed his wrinkled, balding head,and the girl got up and left the room and went ot into the winter wind and...

IIShe walked out through the snow.She left the body there.The flakes fell to her face,and her face fell to the ground.She listened as the chaos swelled around.While the church ahead began to ring the bellsThat thundering soundlifted her to her feet andshe walked on.

She continued down the road.The monotony had made restless beyond words.She found a shovel and dug a big pothole.Then a carriage crashed and made a big and deafening soundPolice gathered round.The flakes fell to her face,while her eyesturned them to water.

The owner yelled and called her terrible names,"Whore! Wench! What have you done?"They cuffed her up and took her shovel awaybut then the sun came outand dried the stuff from her face.She smiled sweet, apologized, and walked her self away.

Now you're hear in my heartand you know who you are.No one's going to clean up this mess:the wheels have fallen off,the current's gonna take you where you want,but you keep on running,The current's gonna make you who you are.You know your smile's growing stronger,while your stride is getting longer:You're gonna make it out,on your own.